


A Different Start

by Wolvesandwerewolves



Series: Guillotine - All for the Game [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:13:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolvesandwerewolves/pseuds/Wolvesandwerewolves
Summary: Neil Josten sits on the bleachers, smoking as he watches the Exy field being torn apart, trading truths and secrets. His mother, if she were to see him now, would be disapointed to the point of hitting him. But he hasn't seen her in three years.





	A Different Start

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! So, in this fic I've used quotes from the book in different areas and since I'm expanding on that, please comment or send me a message on tumblr of your favorite quotes or passages from any of the books! I'm currently rereading and highlighting some stuff but I'd love to hear from you guys. :)
> 
> My tumblr is ohneilthefoxholecourt or wolvesandwerewolvesbaby. 
> 
> I hope you like the fic and thanks for reading/kudos/comments! :)

  
Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn't want the nicotine; he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother.

She was smoking, the last time he saw her. He knew it was to help calm her down; three drags and she would instantly sag in momentary relief. It was much the same for him. Three deep inhales off a cigarette was all he ever needed. After that, he would let it burn, breathing in the lingering smoke in the breeze, occasionally tapping off ash.

It was his third cigarette today. He typically only needed to buy one pack every two months. He didn't smoke often.

Tonight, though, he was contemplating his forth.

After all, that's about as many his mother went through that night. The ride wasn't long, but he counted every time she would flick a newly used up bud out the open window of the moving car. _One. Two. Three. Four._

They didn’t help to calm Mary Hatford's nerves that night. They weren't helping now, either.

Neil sighed as he ground out what was left—almost nothing—before reaching into his hoodie for his pack and Cora's lighter. He knew she knew about him smoking. She even knew why he did it. She didn't approve, not really, but some days, when he was up half passed two due to nightmares, they would smoke together on the small balcony of the 5th floor apartment. Neither of them ever mentioned those times once they had passed, and more often than not, they would feel phantasmagoric in his hazy memories. Much like his memories of his mother, which were diluted with time and high strung emotions, they didn't seem real. But at times, in flashbacks or in the moment, they would be more real to Neil than anything else was.

He took one drag off the cigarette, then closed his eyes and simply breathed in.

Behind him, he could hear the squeal of a door as it opened and a click of metal, then a solid thunk as it was left to close on its own. Footsteps crunching in asphalt slowly grew louder as they got nearer and the bleachers shook underneath him as someone jumped onto them.

Instead of looking back, he glanced up at the night sky. The stars were washed out by the stadium lights, but it was significantly later than when he'd first sat down after the game. His hair was dry from the shower he'd taken after everyone else. Cora probably wouldn't text him until around eleven; she always respected his boundaries and he respected her rules.

A dark blue, ratty duffel bag landed in a heap at his feet and Neil was forced to look up. Andrew Minyard, a junior at his school, stood above him and to the side, staring blankly out at the court as he pulled out his own pack of cigarettes and sat down. He flicked his lighter a few times, but it stayed unlit. Growling slightly, he tossed it down the steps of the bleachers. Neil handed him his own cigarette, rather than Cora's lighter.

“Bad night?” he asked quietly, carefully not looking at Andrew. In front of him, a crew was dismantling the court, unhinging the plexiglass, rolling astroturf over the hard floor. When they were done it'd be a soccer field again; there'd be nothing left of Exy until fall. Neil felt sick watching it happen, but he couldn't look away.

“Is there ever a good one?” Andrew quipped apathetically, blowing out smoke. Neil breathed it in. By now, he was getting sick of it, but the memories and his own twisted need of it burned inside. “What are you doing here? Watching as they kill your beloved sport?”

Neil shrugged. “It's only dead until the new school year. They have a court at the local gym I could practice on until then.”

Beside him, Andrew scoffed. His opinion was obvious; he couldn't care less about exy. He only started playing at juvie—a fact Cora would not appreciate—and the only reason he continued to play in high school was for his brother, Aaron. Neil knew him, since he'd attended Columbia High since 8th grade, technically middle school. As far as he could tell, Aaron had been here his whole life. Earlier this year, he'd claimed he had a long lost twin brother who would be going to school with him once he moved in. He wasn't lying.

Neil had a majority of his classes with Andrew, and a few with Aaron as well. Even though he'd been going to school there for three years now, he didn't have many friends. He knew the twins didn't either. Aaron used to have a few, but when his violent twin showed up, it seemed they gradually drifted away. The two spent a lot of time together, but as far as Neil could see, they weren't especially talkative.

Aaron hadn't really wanted to be friends with him, and if Neil knew better he would say neither would Andrew. But Andrew sought him out. Neil hadn't tried to make it so obvious that learning German came fairly easy to him because he already knew it, but he was the best in his class. Andrew claimed he wanted to learn because Aaron knew it—not to Neil's skill level, obviously, but he was definitely ahead of most. Apparently they had a cousin who lived in Germany who had helped Aaron learn a bit before he moved there permanently.

Even though he told Neil he wanted to learn German, he felt as if Andrew had gravitated towards him out of instinct. Sometimes, he seemed to know that Neil wasn't real. Andrew could look right through him with a stare so intense he was sure he would see Nathaniel, but he never said anything. Aaron, whenever he joined them, seemed to be none the wiser. Still, sometimes his paranoia and the goosebumps on the back of his neck told him Andrew had only stayed close to watch him; whether he was identifying Neil as a potential threat or a potential tool—or worse yet, a weapon—he wasn't sure.

  
Andrew flicked the bud of his cigarette on the ground, then squashed it with his shoe. He held his hand out for a lighter and Neill frowned but passed it to him, anyways. After a few minutes had passed, he decided to answer the first question. He knew Andrew wouldn't have forgotten it.

“Tonight is the night, almost three years ago, that my mother gave me up.” He shrugged again, craving the smoke. He resisted the urge to scoot closer to Andrew, to better inhale the scent. “I haven't seen her since. Sometimes I wonder if she's even still alive.”

Neil wasn't sure why he told Andrew his secrets, when no one else aside from his adoptive mother knew. He knew neither Mary or Cora wouldn't appreciate it—Mary would say that he was putting himself in danger. Cora would say that even if he was safe, he had to be cautious and discreet. But Andrew dealt in truths, and for each one Neil gave, he received one as well. Nothing was free. Not even his German lessons.

It was a while before he spoke, but Andrew answered him eventually. “Tilda hit Aaron again. It's been three months. She thought I didn't see.” He paused, turning his head towards Neil, but his gaze wandered somewhere over his shoulder. “A storm's coming,” he said.

Although the lights blocked out any stars above them, they were still absent in the distance. To the east, a dark veil was slowly heading in their direction. According to the news, they were to expect heavy rain and winds within the next two days. It seemed at odds with the mild weather they were having tonight, though there was a slight electric chill in the atmosphere.

Neil wondered what that had to do with his abusive mother, but Andrew didn't say anything unimportant. It was connected.

He didn't push. Besides, it wasn't the first time he'd heard of Tilda's many misdeeds. Aaron loved her, despite everything, while Andrew tolerated her but loathed her all the same. Neil could understand them both and was disinclined to give his opinion. While he knew how Aaron felt, from a personal perspective, he agreed with Andrew from a moral one. Odd, though, how no one thought he had any morals.

Sighing, Neil dug his phone out of his duffel bag at his feet. No texts from Cora, but it was almost ten. He should be going home. He didn't really want to, not when Andrew smelled like smoke—it didn’t remind him of his mother when it mingled with Andrew's shampoo but it was still soothing. He found he rather liked having a friend.

Andrew seemed to read at least some of his thoughts. “Is your mom picking you up?”

“ I told her not to. I take it you took the car?” When Andrew didn't answer, he shrugged, guessing that was a yes. “I'll buy you food and another pack of cigarettes if you take me home.”

“I need a new lighter, too,” he said, passing Neil his adoptive mother's silver one.

“Deal.”


End file.
